Chapter 67: A Calculated Gambit

The days of rest passed uneventfully.

Lia secluded herself in the inn room, dedicating most of her time to replenishing the silver metallic scroll with magic.

The process was tedious, yet utterly necessary.

The runes on the scroll transitioned from dim to bright, then slowly receded into a subtle glow, much like a slumbering beast gathering its strength.

She composed a letter.

The parchment, imbued with her magic, folded and encrypted itself at her fingertips, ultimately dissolving into a faint glimmer that vanished into the air.

It was addressed to Klein.

The letter detailed her discoveries and conjectures, alongside her resolute decision not to cease her pursuit.

Upon completing this, she closed her eyes.

Within her spiritual world, a faint speck of light hung quietly, marking the coordinates she had imprinted upon the three-ring mage.

This particular three-ring mage lived a remarkably regular life.

Approximately every three days, he would emerge from the depths of Silent Valley to Fallen Leaf Town, acquire live provisions and magical materials, and then return the way he came, disturbing no one and lingering no longer than necessary.

Conversely, while in the valley, that light speck remained almost motionless, often staying in the same location for over a day.

***

Early that morning, the clamor from the inn’s lobby shattered the town’s tranquility.

Lia pushed open her door and leaned against the second-floor railing, peering down.

A young outsider sat by a window table.

Appearing no older than his early twenties, he wore a pristine scholar’s robe and surveyed the rustic surroundings with a scrutinizing gaze, looking conspicuously out of place.

Near the bar, the two swindlers she had previously taught a lesson, one stout and one lean, were whispering intently.

Their eyes intermittently flickered towards the young man, their faces etched with a calculating glint.

They were preparing to ply their trade once more.

The skinny man took a deep breath, clutching an aged wooden box, and approached the young man’s table.

“Esteemed mage, please spare a moment.”

The young man looked up, his eyes placid, betraying no emotion.

“Is something amiss?”

“It’s like this,” the skinny man’s face contorted into a mask of earnestness and distress. “Our family has fallen on hard times; this is the sole treasure passed down by my ancestors. I’m truly at my wit’s end and hoped to sell it for some money to treat my ailing mother at home. You see…”

He cautiously opened the wooden box, revealing a yellowed animal hide upon which a faded map was drawn with ancient script and symbols.

The fat man immediately sidled closer, his voice booming as if afraid others wouldn’t hear.

“Heavens! Is this not Ancient Helan? This map points to… the fabled lost Golden City in Silent Valley!”

Their coordination had improved considerably since last time.

The young man gazed at the map, seemingly genuinely intrigued, and reached out, intending to pick up the animal hide.

Yet, the instant his fingertips were about to touch the hide, his movement halted.

He looked directly at the skinny man.

“Your eyes betray your intentions.”

The skinny man’s smile froze.

“N-no, not at all, sir. You must be mistaken.”

“No, I am not mistaken.” The young man’s voice remained calm, but a chilling aura seemed to solidify the air. “When a lie is on the verge of succeeding, people’s eyes and mouths are far more honest than their tongues. I’ve seen this undisguised greed countless times.”

Before his words even faded, he swiftly extended a hand, seizing the skinny man’s left hand, which held the wooden box.

Crunch.

A crisp, teeth-jarring sound of bone fracturing echoed.

“Ah—!”

The skinny man let out a piercing shriek, then collapsed to the ground, writhing frantically and clutching his twisted, deformed fingers.

The young man rose, casting a condescending glance at him before turning his gaze to the petrified fat man.

“Scram.”

Once more, the two swindlers scrambled out of the inn, leaving behind the lingering stench of urine.

The entire lobby fell into a stunned silence.

The young man nonchalantly resumed his seat and picked up the tankard of ale on his table.

Lia observed everything from the second floor, taking it all in.

The young man, ignoring the surrounding stares, turned to the innkeeper.

“A room, for one night. Additionally, I require the most detailed map of Silent Valley available.”

The innkeeper snapped back to reality, nodding profusely.

“Going to that cursed place? Young man, take my advice—it’s ill-omened.”

“I pay, you provide. No unnecessary chatter.” The young man’s tone brooked no argument.

Lia silently retreated to her room.

‘His target is Silent Valley as well?’

‘Things are becoming increasingly interesting.’

***

That afternoon, the two-ring mage was organizing his gear at a table in the lobby.

Lia ordered a mug of ale and settled into a corner not far away, covertly observing him from the corner of her eye.

His equipment left her secretly astonished.

Poisoned wrist-mounted crossbow bolts; judging by the color of the poison, it was likely the rare Stasis Ash, designed to paralyze nerves rather than kill. This indicated his preference for capture or interrogation.

Trigger-activated miniature alchemical traps, with fluorite powder as their energy core, offering stable but short trigger times—a hallmark of a quick-strike, decisive fighting style.

Then there were the potions, perhaps for staunching blood, neutralizing poison, or enhancing explosive power. Each vial was sealed with wax of a different color, and the labels bore shorthand symbols only he could decipher.

This was a seasoned veteran, one who had ingrained combat and survival instincts deep into his very bones; every tool he possessed exuded practicality and a hint of bloodshed.

Lia silently noted his methods for organizing equipment and those practical little tricks. Her own gear might be superior, but what she lacked was the kind of experience forged in countless life-and-death struggles.

There was no harm in learning more.

As she watched his actions, an idea began to take shape in her mind.

To ascertain the true strength of that ancient monster, she needed a pawn.

A pawn capable of stirring the waters and testing the depths on her behalf.

This individual, who was prepared to venture forth proactively, possessed considerable strength and rich experience, undoubtedly making him an excellent candidate.

Of course, she would also need to leave a coordinate on him.

Lia rose on tiptoe, heading towards the bar. Her path naturally led past the young man’s table.

Just a second before she would have passed him, she caught a glimpse, from the corner of her eye, of the meat hanging above the bar.

The hemp rope binding it was on the verge of snapping from prolonged exposure to smoke and fire.

A minuscule, almost imperceptible thread of spiritual energy precisely flickered out, severing the most fragile fibers of the rope.

Thwack!

The meat slab fell with a thud, striking the floor beside the young man’s table and kicking up a cloud of dust.

The sudden sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make the young man, who was intently organizing his equipment, instinctively glance sideways.

It was precisely at this moment.

Lia, as if startled herself, naturally paused her steps, her body subtly turning.

In the fleeting instant her fingers brushed past the edge of the young man’s table, a subtle spiritual energy imprint, like a wisp of silk, spread down the table leg, silently adhering itself to the metal buckle of his leather boot.

“Watch your step.” The young man’s voice came from beside her; he evidently believed Lia’s movement had caused the meat to fall.

“Yes, my apologies.” Lia picked up her drink and quickly departed, not looking back.

Returning to her seat, she could feel a scrutinizing gaze linger on her back for a moment before slowly moving away.

***

The next day.

Just as dawn was breaking.

Lia opened her eyes in bed.

In her spiritual world, the stable light speck belonging to the three-ring mage remained in the depths of the valley.

Meanwhile, the light speck representing the young man had already left the inn and was moving towards the town’s entrance.

He had departed.

Lia turned over and got out of bed, retrieving the silver metallic scroll from her spatial ring and activating it.

A faint shimmer pulsed, and her form gradually faded into the air, blending seamlessly with the faint glow and shadows of dawn.

She pushed open the window, descending like a weightless fallen leaf, silently drifting into the inn’s back alley.